Maybe
by goldencompass
Summary: No matter what he did they still wanted him there, and it was nice just to have someone care enough to give him hell..." One Shot.


**Disclaimer: **don't own them.

**Author's Notes:** Just a little something that attached itself to my brain on the bus this morning.

**Feedback:** Please! Don't make me beg, it's kind of messy.

* * *

At some point every day he quietly thanks god, Trey, his dad, and fate for being so kind. He had someone now, for what just might be the first time he was truly happy. Life before Ryan is a blurry movie that plays in the back of his mind, but he refuses to acknowledge it. It doesn't matter anymore, he has his friend, finally, and that part of his life is over.  
  
It's the simple things. The fact that whenever Ryan is up before him there is a coffee (one sugar, no cream, just the way he likes it) waiting on the kitchen island for him. Or the fact that whenever he's so restless he's practically vibrating, Ryan will suggest they go somewhere, do something, even if what he really wants to do is stay in the pool house alone and read. The fact that people don't give him that disgusted look in the halls at school any longer, and that his trip to Tahiti, has quietly been discarded.  
  
Or the fact that he doesn't ever think about the collection of various pills he'd collected and stored in his closet.  
  
There's too much to do now. Maybe he and Ryan will go sailing tomorrow. He could try and teach Ryan how to skateboard.  
  
Maybe he'll throw out the pills.

* * *

At some point after learning about Ryan's situation and status as a new member of the Cohen household, everyone always asks him why. "You see tons of kids like Ryan, why him?" And he'll give them some response fit for hallmark and smile. But in the end, it's too complicated for him to give the real answer. He's not even sure why he did it himself.  
  
Maybe it was that silly spiel about life expectancy, or the apologetic little smile he shot him. Maybe it was the test scores, or the sloshed mother screaming at him. There were so many factors, so many reasons why.  
  
Every day Ryan spent with them, every day he became a little more relaxed, more trusting, was the answer to that question.  
  
Maybe it was because Ryan asked, and that was likely one of the hardest things the kid had ever had to do.

* * *

She fought so hard against Ryan staying with them at first because she didn't want to know. She realized what Sandy did for a living, but she never allowed herself to think of the kids, what their lives must be like, the reasons they did the things that made them need a public defender. There was no way she could live in a house that was probably worth one hundred times more than what their families lived on and not have her guilt eat away at her.  
  
But Ryan made it impossible to turn him away. He tried to be tough, but the reality was he walked around holding his heart out in front of him, and battered and broken as it was he still hoped that this time someone would be careful with it.  
  
She remembered her conversation with Dawn the morning she walked away from Ryan, Dawn telling her that she'd be a better mother to Ryan. She remembers thinking "Maybe she's right, maybe I would be. Maybe I can love him." She immediately felt horrified at herself. You're not supposed to want a mother to walk away from her son. But quietly, secretly, she's glad Dawn did.  
  
It was almost immediate, her love for Ryan as a son. Dawn disappeared out of sight and Ryan gave her a look, _the_ look. He looked at her like she would make it all better; make all the hurt go away.  
  
And damn it, she intended to do just that.

* * *

He didn't recognize the feeling at first; it kind of snuck up on him for the first time somewhere around Chrismukah. He wrote it off as Chrismukah spirit and thought nothing of it. But after the Oliver debacle, with the not kicking him out and everything, well, he couldn't make it go away.  
  
He was relaxed. Truly relaxed. Maybe this was what life was supposed to be like. The little things seemed so big now, when he noticed them. He wasn't worried about tracking dirt into the kitchen, or accidentally breaking something, or being too loud with Seth. They'd give him hell, and he'd sometimes be annoyed, but most of the time he loved it. Because no matter what he did they still wanted him there, and it was nice just to have someone care enough to give him hell, the I-read-Dr.-Spock's-child-rearing-books-and-really-do-want-what's-best-for-you way, and not the-bruised-and-bleeding way.  
  
They'd remembered his birthday, and came to his soccer games, and bragged about his grades to their friends.  
  
They told him he belonged with them, to them.  
  
Maybe they really did love him.


End file.
